


Wintertide

by Zabeta



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Grimm-typical HEA, Grimm-typical violence, Horned god makes an appearance, fairy tale, winter ritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zabeta/pseuds/Zabeta
Summary: It was important work, gathering fuel for the Burning of the Ren, though only an outcast like the Scavenger could do it. The ceremony marked the turning of one year into the next, and ensured the light would come again to drive back winter’s darkness.The good Queen had tried to change the ancient rite, to mark the year without the loss of one more soul from their war-torn land. But in the ten years since her decree, the disasters sweeping over them had only multiplied. Famine, flood, unearthly winds and the summer’s fires had torn at people’s goodness, and the refugees that sought the Queen’s peace had only taxed it more. When a Wizard suggested that only human sacrifice would appease the angry spirits, the people listened, and demanded a real Ren for the fire.





	Wintertide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TourmalineGreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineGreen/gifts).



> You know when you get a gift you think is pretty good, and then you find a stocking stuffer that is not as valuable but is much closer to what your friend actually wanted? This is that stocking stuffer, a little bauble for the top of TourmalineGreen's New Year's gift fic. Happy reading!
> 
> Note the whole story basically revolves around human sacrifice, but no one gets hurt except the bad guys. And there are references to wild fires that happened in the recent past, but nothing graphic. Extra hugs to anyone for whom that might be a trigger this year.
> 
> Whipped into shape and polished up by the very generous MissCoppelia and PoliticalMamaDuck. Thank you both for the great suggestions.

The Scavenger huddled close to the tiny fire she had hidden away inside a broken pot. It was forbidden for anyone but the Jedi to burn the Kylo fuel, but the winter had rushed in violent and deadly, and the summer’s fires left little else to burn. 

Her step-father had turned her out three days ago, bawling at her to “do a bit of work for a change and don’t come back until the wagon is full!” She had been sleeping in her secret hollow in the woods, where she hid her fire pot and a few of her private treasures. The cold still found her there, but the rounded walls held the warmth of her fire, too, and kept her safe.

That day, when she woke, there had been a rosy apple sitting next to her fire pot. Since the cold had come, these gifts had begun to appear every few days. At first a bit of scarlet ribbon or a sprig of holly; more recently food. She needed the food more, but she was starved of beauty too, and devoured the first gifts with her eyes while she ate the apple.

When the sun overwhelmed the light of her tiny fire, she banked the coals and set out on her work. It was important work, gathering fuel for the Burning of the Ren, though only an outcast like the Scavenger could do it. The ceremony marked the turning of one year into the next, and ensured the light would come again to drive back winter’s darkness.

The good Queen had tried to change the ancient rite, to mark the year without the loss of one more soul from their war-torn land. But in the ten years since her decree, the disasters sweeping over them had only multiplied. Famine, flood, unearthly winds and the summer’s fires had torn at people’s goodness, and the refugees that sought the Queen’s peace had only taxed it more. When a Wizard suggested that only human sacrifice would appease the angry spirits, the people listened, and demanded a real Ren for the fire.

The Scavenger knew little of this, only that her step-father’s cruel smile had been more satisfied than usual when he said, “that means more work for you, girl, and more money for me. You can’t burn a body with a few handfuls of leaves!” 

Fuel to burn a body must be dry, and the Ren fire could be built only with dried leaves and brush and the wood of one particular tree that had been scarce even before the fires. She hiked further every day to find what was needed, walking the deer paths above the villages and blazing her own trails along the muddy streams.

On the day she found the apple, when the sun had started to slide back toward its home and she still had miles to go, the Scavenger came across the Monster of the Wood. She heard a thrashing sound like an animal in a trap before she caught sight of him. Larger than any man she’d ever met, he was clad all in black from head to toe, with a hood hiding his head and gloves on his hands. He was beating at the underbrush with his sword, and it seemed as if a fit was upon him, as she had sometimes seen upon the village children when someone told them “no.”

“Do you need help, Sir?”

He turned to face her, so she saw the horned mask he wore, and knew he was the Monster. He staggered back, and a hollow voice from behind the mask said, “It’s you.”

Something strange happened then. All at once, the Scavenger felt a rushing in her head, and memories that she’d never had before filled it up. Perhaps they were memories of dreams she’d forgotten, for they had that same strange light her dreams often had, but how could she have real memories of herself? For that is what they all were, herself asleep in her hollow, pulling herself up a rocky slope to reach a fallen branch, catching fish in a freezing stream, and leaving her step father’s house four days ago.

The Scavenger was frightened by the strange dream memories, and by the mask and the strange-sounding voice, and so she turned to run. The Monster reached for her, and she found she could not move a muscle. A different voice spoke in her head.

_ Wait. Please don’t go _ .

The Scavenger had a stout heart, and heard a need in that second voice that felt familiar. Whoever spoke those words was in pain, and there were few wounded creatures she could deny her help.

When she felt her limbs were hers again she asked, “I know you are the Monster of the Wood because you wear his mask. Who begs me stay? The Monster has no need of me, and that was not a monster’s voice.”

He dipped his head to pull the mask off, and showed her his true face. “How do you think monsters are made, Scavenger? We are only men beneath the trappings and bad deeds.”

His voice now matched the one inside her head. The mask had hidden a long face, with a pointed chin, sad eyes, and the fine pale skin and silky black hair of an angel. “Tell me, what are you doing in the wood, so far from home?”

“Why, I live in the village below this ridge. And I am only gathering firewood, as you can see, Sir.” The Scavenger was stout of heart, but also careful.

“If you know I am the Monster, you know better than to lie to me, girl. I can pluck the truth from your mind just as the stories say.”

“Hah. You are no more a wizard than I myself! Everyone knows that wizards are made twisted and horrible by their magic, and you are...you are not horrible. You look more like a prince.”

He nodded at that, and bowed a courtly bow, and put one hand upon her brow before she could move away. 

She heard the rushing sound again, and felt a tugging deep inside her head that she did not like at all. She tugged back, teeth bared, as fierce and tenacious as the rat terrier her step father kept. She felt something give, like a turnip uprooted, and then she was seeing dreams again. 

She saw a real wizard, and a weeping queen, and the pleading faces of men meeting their end on the Monster’s sword. Every image was tinted red with blood and pain, fear and anger swirling through the dark corners, but whether the fear and anger belonged to the Monster or his victims, she could not say.

The Monster gaped at her, breathing hard, and she looked back, sickened by the things she had just seen.

“Will you be my death, then, Monster?   


“I think not today. It seems you have important work to do, and I would not stand between the Ren and as quick a death as you can give him. Run now, before I change my mind.”

He covered his anguished face with the mask again, and she ran.

\----------------

She ran back the way she had come, leaping over rocks and skidding through patches of icy mud. Finally, running down a slope of scorched earth, she slid and tumbled head over heels down the hill until a fallen log caught her with a thump. When she tried to stand to find her way again, her knee refused to hold her up, so she sat down, hard, and thought. 

She could not make it back to her hollow, but a drifting smell of woodsmoke reminded her that she might find help in the nearest village. She gathered up her bundle of firewood, found one likely piece to help her bear her weight, and hobbled down the slope.

The woodsmoke came from a dwelling on the edge of a village. As she drew closer, she could hear the sound of laughter and the sweet high melody of a flute. Keeping to the edge of the woods, she warily stepped closer, unsure of her welcome among these cheerful people. 

A tiny old woman came out, bearing a pan of slops to toss into her pigs’ trough. When she caught sight of the Scavenger, she welcomed her in a deep, strong voice, “What’s happened to you, girl? You look like you’ve rolled with my pigs here! Come warm yourself inside and let me take a look.”

The woman had the air of someone not used to being refused, so the girl limped after her into a big, warm room. She supposed it was an inn or a tavern, for two or three groups of men and women sat drinking there and quieted when they saw her. She tried to make herself smaller, but the woman spoke again in her big voice, “Nevermind the rowdy company, my dear. Sit here and let me see that leg.”

Later, cleaner, warm, and well-fed, the Scavenger could hardly keep her eyes open. She had tried to repay the woman’s kindness with work, but she had not been allowed to do a single thing but sit beside the hearth while the woman bustled about. Finally, when it had fallen full dark, someone called to the tiny woman for a story, and she sat down at the end of the long table in the middle of the room and began to weave her tale.

It was a story of the Wild Hunt, and the Monster leading it. The woman describes the masked man exactly, from the ragged antlers on his mask to the oak and holly leaves embroidered on his cloak. As the woman told it, the Monster really was a prince, child of their own good Queen, who had been kidnapped as a youth and trained into his evil ways by the Wizard. Sometimes in spirit and sometimes in the flesh, the Monster and his Knights whirled through the woods to set upon the Wizard’s enemies. Those they found in the flesh always died, but those they visited as spirits went mad, overcome by babbling terror if ever they heard a hound or horse or hunting horn for the rest of their lives.

The tale turned to the details of one local soul who had succumbed to madness, and the Scavenger drifted into a dream of her own. The Monster bowed before her and held out his hand. His mask was gone, and his black hunting clothes had been replaced by red velvet and a golden crown. When she took his hand, she saw a blue and silver sleeve covering her wrist, and looked down to discover a gown now covered her instead of muddy leggings and her ragged jerkin. 

He drew her into a dance, and though she had never danced in her life, she knew the steps. They whirled past more people in brilliant silks and jeweled crowns, until everything was a blur except his long sad face in front of her. He said, “Will you save me?” speaking into her head again, without moving his lips. Then she began to fall, and fall, and fall, until she woke.

The fire was low, the others gone. Only the innkeeper sat beside her now. “The sun is almost up, and you should find your way home before the snow begins to fall. Now listen, when you’ve lived as long as I have you see the same eyes in different people, and I believe you will need these soon,” she whispered.

She dropped three golden nuts into the girl’s hand. They felt heavy and warm and her palm tingled beneath them.

“Those will only work for someone with your light, my dear, and you must want them to work with all your heart. Beyond that, you will know better than I what to do when the time comes.”

The Scavenger rose to her feet to find that her knee was as good as new, so she packed up the Innkeeper’s three golden nuts, and a packet of food, and swiftly climbed back out of the village and into the woods.

\---------------

That night, safe in her own hollow again, she had the same dream of dancing with the Monster, but this time when she fell after the dancing, she landed in a snowy wood, and found herself fighting with him instead. Both of them wielded broadswords, and she could feel the terrible weight of hers, so that her arms and back and stomach trembled with the effort to push back his brutal blows. The earth shook and split between them, and she plunged into the chasm, falling again until she woke once more.

This time when she woke, she could still feel the sorrow, fear and anger that had rolled off the Monster when she met him in the wood. She lay as still as a hunted creature in the dark, barely daring to breathe, reaching out to discover what was wrong. The feelings did not fade as they did after a nightmare, and they did not come from inside her own heart either. She could sense them outside of her the same way she could hear the owl’s hunting cry, or feel the cold air seeping over the rim of the hollow. She whispered, “Where are you, Monster?” and a thread of something sweeter joined the flow of hurt she sensed.

“What keeps you awake tonight, Scavenger?” came the voice she thought of as belonging to the Prince.

“Strange dreams, and the cold. Why are you awake, Monster?”

“What self-respecting Monster sleeps at night? My end is coming soon enough and I will sleep forever then.”

“Is it a magic gift to know the time of your own end?” she asked, truly curious.

“No, little Scavenger. I know my end because I am the Kylo Ren. My wise master chose me and it is my honor to comply.”

Hearing this answer, the Scavenger felt very strange. She had never thought about the Kylo Ren as a person with a life before the burning. And since this man was a murderous hunter, his sacrifice should have been a relief to her as well as a sacrament. But she only thought of his eyes looking at her with awe in the forest, and his voice in her dream asking whether she would save him. So she asked him another question, and another, until they had silently talked through most of the night and she could keep her eyes open no longer.

All through the next day, the Scavenger gathered her fuel, but her feet moved more slowly and her eyes were not as sharp as usual. Still, no matter how she dawdled, her cart was completely full by sunset, and she turned back toward her step-father’s house. He was not there when she came in, but rushed in soon after dark, bringing cold air and the smell of ale with him.

“Girl?” he called out. “Ah-ha, there you are. Good thing you made it back. The hunt for the Kylo has started - can’t have you out in the woods tonight.”

That night, she lay on her pallet by the fire, listening to the hunt. She had never seen the Kylo hunt, but knew the men of the kingdom would be out there in the woods, tracking down the sacrifice. She could hear hounds baying far away, and an occasional hunting horn. There was only silence around her step-father’s house, and she was in the space between waking and sleeping when she felt the Monster again. 

His fear and anger pulsed beneath a blanket of exhaustion, and she began to hear his labored breathing, the crashing of brush as he ran. She felt a terrible pain in her side, and had to remind herself that she was not hurt. Then the crashing stopped, and she felt a hint of relief, and she began to see what he was seeing. He had dropped into a hollow beneath a hill, and was looking at a broken pot, and a scrap of ribbon.

When she realized he was in her hollow, she leaped up, wrapping herself in a warm shawl as she ran silently across the earthen floor and out of the house. Like a ghost, she flew through the woods, grateful for the moonless night that hid her. She halted outside her refuge, and reached out to the Monster with her feelings, sending him a warning before she showed herself.

“How did you know to come here?” she asked, still standing several feet away.

“You should not have come, Scavenger, but if you insist on questions, you must come closer. I’ll show myself to the Hunt soon enough, but I would not have them find you with me.”

She sat beside him, tucked into the tiny space between his broad body and the edge of the darkness inside the hollow. His helmet sat on the ground by her knees, the spread of its horns nearly as wide as the Monster’s long legs.

He picked up her ribbon and handed it to her. “I found this spot playing in these woods as a boy. After the fires burned out my other hiding places, I looked for it again, but it seems you found it in the meantime. I thought you might have been a wood spirit, and left these gifts in case you were, so you’d look kindly and continue to hide me.”

She could not see his face, though his breath tickled her cheek as he spoke. She felt his body shake beside her, and heard a sound like a whimper bitten back, but she could not interpret the emotions rolling off of him.

“Are you hurt? Can I help you?”

“I am hurt, but the only help I need now is a messenger. Will you carry my words to my mother?”

“The Queen? But I can’t…” she began to protest.

“Tell her my true name and she will listen. Tell her Ben wishes...tell her he…” He heaved a sigh and finished, “Tell her I wish I were her son again.” He held his hand out to her, stripped of its glove. “Swear it. Please.”

Taking his hand, she swore she would bear his message. They sat like that for a few minutes more in silence before he sent her away. She was still awake an hour later when she heard the hounds yelping their success at finding their prey.

She did not sleep again, but thought furiously, and rose before the sun to wake her step-father and begin to haul the Kylo fuel to build the pyre in front of the Burning Tree.

\----------------

They brought up the Ren at the end of a long procession. First came the Wizard, more horrible than any storyteller could imagine. He was followed by twelve tall figures masked and robed in red, each armed with a different strange weapon.

Behind him came two mounted knights in armor, bearing the Queen’s colors. The Monster walked behind them, helmet on, wrists bound in front and tied to one knight’s saddle.

Several yards behind him came the Queen herself, with her consort and an escort of lords and ladies. Last was a sombre Jedi in his mud-colored robes. The Queen held her head high, but from her spot beneath the pyre, the Scavenger could see the tracks of tears on her pale cheeks. 

Taking a breath, she stepped forward and knelt at the Queen’s feet. “Your Majesty, I bear a message from Ben!”

The rest of the procession continued, but the Queen halted, and her consort and the Jedi came up on either side. The consort growled the beginning of a threat, “If this is in jest…” and the Jedi just looked furious, but the Queen held her hands out to stop them both and said quietly, “What message do you bring us, Maid?”

“Your Majesty, I swore to bear you his words faithfully: He wishes he were your son again.”

The Queen’s head turned to look at the Monster, who was climbing the steps of the pyre, then back to the Scavenger. Her face had changed completely. Now she wore a look like hope and said, “You have earned a favor for that service, Maid. Come to us once the year has turned and we will grant it if we can.”

Now the crowd gathered below the pyre turned to look at the spectacle of the Kylo Ren bound for burning. The Burning Tree rose up behind him as tall as a castle wall, bone white branches reaching up like arms lifted in supplication. The Wizard stood on a little platform nailed to the tree, high above the pyre. The red-robed guards stood around the base of the pyre, facing out. The Queen and her people stood off to the side, though the Queen’s eyes never left her son, except to glance down to the Scavenger every now and then.

The Wizard raised his arms and began to speak the incomprehensible words of the ritual. The sun, still rising in the sky, darkened, and the leaves at the Kylo Ren’s feet began to stir themselves into tiny whirlwinds.

The Wizard finished speaking, and the Jedi moved to take the helmet off the Monster’s head. He spoke in the common tongue, “May all your wrongs be righted with your death. May all your good deeds be remembered. Return to us with the light, be reborn from the fields, and give us good hunting until your time comes once again.”

The Wizard shouted, “Let it be done!” and the red guards conjured sparks from their weapons and set them to the pyre, and everyone waited for the flames to rise.

The Monster saw the Scavenger in the crowd and looked at her for courage, and she did not look away. The Queen watched them seeing each other, and saw the fierce light come into the Scavenger’s eyes when she lifted her chin and shouted words the wind whirled away. She saw the girl’s arm lift to throw something into the flames, and three wraiths sprang out.

The wraiths seemed to be made of blue light. They whirled around the Pyre too quickly for most of those gathered there to see, but when the Jedi told the story later, he was sure what each of them had done.

Two of the wraiths took on the red guards. They fought with swords made of light, and leaped and whirled through the air attacking the Wizard’s men from every direction at once. One by one, the living men fell.

The third wraith was much smaller. It stood at the Monster’s feet and pulled all the flames out of the pyre, shaping them into a blazing ball that it hurled up into the branches of the Burning Tree. Alll at once the tree burst into flame, engulfed top to bottom in fire hot enough to warm those at the far edge of the crowd.

The Wizard was caught in the fire, and he began to scream, as first his golden robes melted and then his staff exploded in his hands. He jumped off of the platform to try to escape the flames, but he was dead before he hit the pyre. The Jedi said he heard a sigh then, and saw the Monster shake his head hard as he loosed the rope around his wrists himself. The fire, lit once again when the Wizard fell, burned higher, and the Monster grabbed the Jedi and carried them both away to safety.

The last thing the Scavenger could see, before the flames grew too high and blocked them from her sight, was the Queen and her consort, looking down at their son who knelt before them.

\------------

On the twelfth night after the Monster became the Prince again, the Queen opened her hall and hosted an enormous feast. She made her fountains flow with wine and led the dancing herself while her lords and ladies dressed in their finest clothes and reveled in the sound of her laughter.

An hour before midnight, a young woman dressed in rags walked straight through the center of the Hall, through the dancing throngs, to the steps of the dais where the Queen and her consort sat. The woman looked straight ahead, and anyone who was paying attention could have seen that the Prince was looking back.

The crowd hushed, and the laughing Queen got up from her throne and ran down to embrace the young woman, kissing her face and hands and finally kneeling at her feet. Her consort came to help his wife up, then he, too, embraced the young woman. 

She spoke then, and her voice shook though it was loud enough to fill the Hall. “Your Majesty, you offered me a favor and I have come to claim it.”

“Anything, brave Maid, for bringing back our son and all the joy we’d set aside.”

“Your Majesty, I would like the hand of your son. I swear to keep him safe from harm and loneliness, and protect him from the darkness.”

The Queen’s face became serious again, and she turned to her son and brought him to her side. “Well, Prince, I promised her any favor and a Queen’s word is inviolate. But if I entrust you to this Maid, you must promise me that you will always keep her safe from harm as well, and give her everyday her share of the joy she brought us back. Will you promise?”

In his own clear voice, and with a smile gracing his angel’s face he answered her, “Yes, Mother, I will.”


End file.
